


Balancing Act

by Cameron_McKell



Series: Adrift and Related Works [5]
Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Crossdressing, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-22
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-02-22 05:05:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2495498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cameron_McKell/pseuds/Cameron_McKell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wally West isn't about to be bested by footwear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt on the Young Justice Anon Meme, and posted while in progress for Wardrobe Wednesday of Birdflash Week(s) on Tumblr.
> 
> Update: Copper_Pineapple did some awesome fanart of Wally all dressed up for the mission; you should go check it out ( http://archiveofourown.org/works/10547034 ).

“Are you sure this will work?” Dick asked the room at large, gaze shifting dubiously between the pile of clothing Wally was halfway submerged in, and their quiet leader.

 

“It must,” Kaldur replied frankly. “M'gann's camouflage and telekinetic abilities will be essential to infiltrating the restricted levels of the organization's secondary location, but we also require concurrent access to the machinery at the primary location.”

 

“And Big Bad Boss Man's only, ahem, 'interviewing' redheads at the moment,” Wally piped up from inside the pile, and something lacy and red fell from the top. He thrust out an arm, the tail end of something green clutched in his fist. “What do you guys think? Irish pixie stereotype?”

 

“Aren't pixies supposed to be delicate?” Conner spoke up from the far side of the room for the first time since the briefing ended. “Your shoulders are too broad for that.”

 

With a click of his tongue and a finger gun aimed closer to the couch than to Conner himself, Wally dropped the green and attacked the pile with renewed vigor.

 

“What about hair dye?” Dick asked almost absentmindedly, most of his attention and all of his gaze focused on the shift and bounce of Wally's backside and legs as he looked.

 

Dick _maybe_ had a bit of a thing for the Kid Flash uniform. And the person in it, too.

 

“All intelligence gathered has stressed the importance of the prospective... 'interviewee',” Kaldur cleared his throat quietly, evidently uncomfortable referring to his friend in a way that implied he would potentially be sexually assaulted due to desperation for employment. “That is, they need to be a natural redhead.”

 

“And good luck trying to dye or bleach your pubic hair, eyebrows, _and_ eyelashes without losing an eye or something. A ha!” Wally burst out of the pile in a shower of tulle and beaded embellishments, something black – or maybe blue – in his hands. Dick only had a handful of seconds to try and get a look at it, though, because Wally had immediately sped over to the 'accessory pile' to add to his find, then darted off to his room to change.

 

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Conner announced, then pulled a peasant blouse off his head, where it had apparently landed during the fashion eruption.

 

When Wally didn't immediately reappear after five minutes had passed, Dick gave the two other boys a wave, and started for their rooms. “I'm going to go check on him; he doesn't usually take this long.”

 

“Be mindful that we depart in 26 minutes, Nightwing,” Kaldur replied behind him.

 

Dick paused in front of the door to Wally's room, hand poised over the keypad, and listened. He couldn't hear any yelling or the sounds of breaking so, figuring it was safe to enter, he tapped in the code and slipped inside.

 

 _Well_.

 

Dick's head turned slightly to the side without any input from his brain.

 

Wally was standing in front of his bathroom mirror, and he'd done a lot in five minutes: The most obvious change from his usual look was the dress, of course; it was two-toned, mid-thigh length, blue down the center of his back and front, and black at the sides to give the impression of a narrower and more feminine frame, pulled in just under his ribcage by a glossy black belt to overemphasize the flare of the skirt, and consequently give the whole look the illusion of an hourglass shape and fuller hips. He'd crossed the straps of the dress's halter neck over each other to – _somehow_ , seriously, this was confusing – give himself a small amount of cleavage, then looped them around his neck like a choker to hide his Adam's apple before tying the whole thing off in the back with a simple knot; the trailing ends of the straps framed Dick's favorite constellation of Wally's freckles on his exposed back.

 

Dick wanted to walk over there and kiss them. So, he did.

 

His skin broke out in goosebumps, but Wally's voice was level when he greeted Dick. “Hey, man.” He finished combing his hair down – and lucky them, that this mission happened to fall right before the 3rd, also known as Haircut Day, so Wally's hair was _just_ long enough he didn't need a wig – then set the comb aside so he could start applying makeup with a surprisingly practiced hand.

 

With his secret identity and all it _was_ kind of a familiar skill for Dick, but –

 

“I thought you didn't have to use concealer and stuff, what with your metabolism and all?” Dick asked, peeking around Wally's shoulder to make eye contact with him in the mirror.

 

“Dude, my aunt works in _television_ , and 'they don't put you in front of the camera unless you look impeccable',” Wally replied, mostly concentrating his makeup skills toward eliminating any shine from his face – he _was_ a teenage boy, after all, even with the regular use of astringent – without completely hiding his freckles. He looked himself over critically, then switched products. “I've known the tricks and secrets for looking good under even the harshest studio lights since I was, like, _three_.”

 

“Right, I forgot... about... that...” Dick trailed off as Wally seemingly-carelessly dabbed on spots of makeup as if he were covering up small injuries or something, except the makeup he'd grabbed was too dark for his skin tone. “Uh... Do you need some face cleanser?”

 

“Nope,” Wally replied, popping the 'p' like a piece of bubblegum, and switched tools again. Instead of asking further, Dick opted to just let Wally get on with it, and watched as he used the new brush to blend the spots of darker makeup out, creating new shadows and contours. By the end of it – plus a little bit of blush – Wally had completely transformed the shape of his face into a youthful, feminine doppelganger.

 

“Wow,” Dick managed to eke out past suddenly-uncooperative lips. Wally grinned at him through the mirror, then leaned back just enough to bump into his best-friend-and-more.

 

“Neat trick, right? The secret's in the jawline,” he confided, then reached for a small-ish eyeshadow palette and a tube of brown mascara. He opened the tube first, swept a tiny blob of excess of the tip of the wand, and began applying it to his lashes.

 

“It was like magic, dude,” Dick replied, borrowing Wally's catchphrase, then tried not to laugh as Wally pulled a strange semi-slack fish face. He wasn't even putting makeup on his lips yet, what was with the funny face? Future blackmail being the better part of valor – just for the fish face, not the dress; there was _no chance_ Dick was going to make fun of that dress and Wally in it – Dick discretely pulled out one of his super-stealthy spy cameras in order to snap up a little proof, only to stop short when he saw the angle Wally was bent closer to the mirror at. If he took the picture now, he'd _also_ end up getting a shot straight down the front of Wally's dress and the mystery-cleavage. Oh, hey –

 

“Is that how you suddenly have boobs?”

 

“Huh?” Wally very nearly poked himself in the eye in surprise at the sudden question. He straightened and turned to face Dick as he processed the question, and Dick tried hard not to feel disappointed at the lost vantage point. “Oh, uh. Yeah. I did it before I put the dress on so I wouldn't make a mess. Between it and the extra volume the crossover straps add to the chest area, instant A cup.”

 

Dick personally thought he looked closer to a B cup, but didn't comment; Wally had nice pectorals to start the whole thing off from, after all, even if he wasn't – and probably never would be – as big as certain teammates of theirs that focused more on physical strength.

 

… And now Dick was imagining Conner and Kaldur in bras. Fantastic.

 

“Besides, I can't exactly stuff a bra in a dress with no back.” Wally continued, sounding somewhat self-conscious for the first time all night, completely oblivious to the turn Dick's thoughts had taken. He toyed with the mascara tube for a moment longer, then turned back to the mirror to finish up. “You don't have to stay and watch, if you're bored.”

 

Recognizing the negative turn of Wally's emotions and well aware of how quickly it could spiral out of control if the speedster was left with nothing but his own racing thoughts for company, Dick scoffed, then picked up the eyeshadow palette so he could he could sit on the edge of the bathroom vanity's top, next to Wally's hand. “Psh, don't be ridiculous. I'm totally going to learn all your 'Ultra Super Secret Mad Makeup Skillz, With a Z'.” They both snorted in amusement, then Dick tentatively laid his hand over the one Wally had braced on the counter. “Besides, it's not exactly a hardship to stare at my boyfriend when he's only half dressed.”

 

The blush on Wally's face wasn't just from a powder then as he turned his hand over on the counter top and squeezed Dick's hand in his. They remained like that, quietly holding hands while Wally's mascara dried so he could continue – and the slightly darker hue to his lashes really brought out how _long_ they were, in Dick's opinion – and Dick held up the eyeshadow palette for him so Wally could keep working while his hand was held hostage. Through careful application of highlights and relatively light purples and browns, Wally's eyes soon looked bigger and brighter than ever, as if that were possible.

 

With a little flourish, Wally straightened away from the mirror and gave a sort of flirty pout. “How do I look, dude?”

 

Instead of immediately responding with an equally flirty 'smoking hot', 'gorgeous', or 'totally sexy', which was all completely true though, Dick tried to look over the makeup critically, from the mission's standpoint. “Beautiful, but I think it's a little 'day look' for the mission.” He looked over the eyeshadow palette in his hand – a more expensive brand than Dick would imagine Wally picking up for the mission, so it was probably borrowed from his aunt – and didn't see anything _quite_ dark enough.

 

He could solve that, though.

 

Dick set the makeup aside as he hopped down, then leaned in to plant a quick kiss on Wally's not-yet-made-up lips. “I'll be right back; keep getting ready.”

 

Wally absently swiped his tongue over his bottom lip but nodded, and Dick bolted for his own room to grab his own, more night-appropriate makeup supplies before he gave into the urge to bite that lip.

 

This mission was already _extremely_ sexually frustrating, and it hadn't even started yet.

 

Dick dawdled a little on the way back so he could regain his composure, and completely lost it again when he walked in to the sight of Wally standing bent over, just finishing zipping up a pair of boots.

 

They weren't just _any_ boots, though. These boots were taller than his Kid Flash boots, about knee high, shiny black, stretched taut over Wally's impressive calves, and with tall, spindly heels that made him look taller – and by association 'older and legal', or at least that he was trying to look that way – and seemed to completely change the shape of his leg and the way he stood.

 

Dick whimpered.

 

Wally looked up at him, grinning smugly with lips tinted a darker but matte peach-pink – and Dick inwardly cursed because he didn't know if he could kiss him, or if the lipstick would smear off – then straightened up a little unsteadily, unaccustomed to wearing heels. He asked playfully, “Something on your mind, _Dick_?”

 

Screw it, Wally would have to reapply anyway

 

Dick pounced, kissing Wally frantically until the redhead wobbled on his heels a little _too_ much, and broke away to sit down on his bed heavily. With the distance came clarity, and Dick remembered the makeup still somehow clutched in his hands. He gestured with it, then opened one of the eyeshadow palettes that had a slightly shimmery brown, darker than anything Wally had had and the easiest way to turn all his hard work into a smokey eye ideal for nightclubs fronting for organized crime. “Close your eyes.”

 

Dick could see Wally biting back a smart remark that would probably result in even _more_ makeup to redo, but he managed to restrain himself and closed his eyes. Choosing to take that as permission more or less, Dick swept in and stole another kiss, then set about deepening the shadow on Wally's eyes and dramatizing the angles a tiny bit more until he looked like, well. Like an aspiring supermodel or actress.

 

He studiously _did not_ think about Wally on 'the casting couch' with some sleazeball for the sake of the mission.

 

He was not thinking about it so much, that he almost missed it when Wally murmured, playing up a southern accent he neither had, nor could be readily found in Central City or Keystone. “Are you makin' me _purty_ , Dickie-bird?”

 

“ _Oh so_ pretty, Wally-dolly,” he snickered back, then snapped the eyeshadow palette shut with a loud, extra dramatic 'click'. “There; all done.”

 

Wally's eyes fluttered open, and Dick stepped back so he had room to stand up again. He threw out a hand to steady himself when he wobbled some halfway up, and Dick took the opportunity to tuck his arm into the crook of his elbow. “Shall we?”

 

“Let me grab my purse real quick,” Wally disengaged from Dick's arm to walk back to the bathroom, a little steadier now that he was upright, and grabbed up a small blue purse with a delicate shoulder strap that practically screamed 'snatch me!' Dick handed over the eyeshadow he'd used on Wally so he could add it to the purse with the other makeup products, fake ID, deceptively nondescript credit card, his goggles – disguised as a compact – and a backup comm link and tracker he had stuffed in there. He slipped the purse strap over his shoulder, then pushed it up again when it immediately tried to fall down, then slid his arm through Dick's waiting elbow. “Okay, let's go.”

 

Wally periodically leaned into Dick to steady himself as they walked back toward the rest of the Team when he started to lose his balance – gradually less often, but still a little concerning unless Wally could play it off as being tipsy or something – until they finally turned into the hangar where the Team and Bioship were waiting.

 

“Hey guys, you ready to go?” Dick greeted their teammates cheekily as they stared at Wally in surprise.

 

Kaldur was trying not to gape – _like a_ _**fish**_ – while Conner watched the proceedings with his typical small, default frown. Artemis and Zatanna still seemed to be in shock – Zee was on crutches from their last mission, but had apparently come down to see them off – and M'gann looked like she was about to break into a smile.

 

“Wow, Wally,” M'gann said, floating over to see the various little details of the look better. “You look really –”

 

“You have _boobs_!” Artemis suddenly interrupted, then clapped her hands over her mouth as if she could stuff the words back inside.

 

“Excellent observation, Arty; you certainly have a keen eye,” Wally teased, gradually raising the pitch of his voice by selectively vibrating his vocal chords at a higher frequency. It was a weird-but-neat trick he'd been working on as part of his practice for phasing through objects, and as such it still required a good deal of 'calibration' to find the right vibrational frequency. Conner winced minutely when the pitch of his voice spiked suddenly.

 

“Getting a little too 'tween girl' there, KF; dial it back down a little bit, would you?” Wally offered a slightly lower apology, and Dick gave him a thumbs up with his free hand.

 

“How do you suddenly have boobs,” Artemis continued ranting to herself, then threw her hands in the air and stomped up the ramp to the ship. “Oh forget it; let's just get this mission over with.” Kaldur followed her up without a word to the team, a sudden tension to his shoulders which was... unusual.

 

Conner picked up the last box of equipment and started for the ramp as well, but hesitated when he passed by Wally and Nightwing. Several long moments passed as he hesitated, then he shifted the box in his arm a bit awkwardly, and looked away. “You... look nice.”

 

Wally blushed and ducked his head a little in an uncharacteristic fit of shyness. “Thanks, man.”

 

Superboy continued up the ramp to the ship without another word.

 

M'gann's gaze seemed stuck to where Conner had disappeared to. “I should... go prep for launch.” She glanced back just long enough to offer a smile. “You really _do_ look nice, Wally.”

 

“That reminds me,” Dick started as he and Wally started toward the ship at a sedate pace; Zatanna was making her way over, so they timed their walk to intersect hers at the base of the ramp. “What name are you going to go with for the mission? Wendy?”

 

Wally blinked, caught off-guard by the question. “You know, I hadn't thought about it. I mean, yeah, I'm in a dress, but I don't feel like I'm suddenly ' _Wendy_ ' or something,” He shrugged helplessly. “I'm still me, still Wally. Though I guess I have to pick _something_ , huh?”

 

“How about Molly?” Zatanna offered, apparently in earshot of their discussion. There was something clutched in her hand with the grip of her crutches, and as soon as they were close enough to her, she reached up to attach it to the pseudo-choker around Wally's neck. “It sounds close to Wally so it'll be easier to answer to, and in large crowds they'll practically be indistinguishable from each other.”

 

“You've put some thought into this,” Dick observed, watching as Wally tilted his head back obligingly to give her more room to work, mouthing the name to himself thoughtfully.

 

“A bit,” she admitted, letting her hands drop away from the small, blue jeweled brooch she'd pinned through the cloth. “I wanted to help contribute, even though I can't come along.”

 

“No feeling guilty, Zee; just focus on getting better. We'll be all right,” Wally smiled encouragingly, then gave her a quick hug. She held on when he tried to pull away, though, and whispered something into his ear. Dick wasn't close enough to hear what she said, but from the way Wally's eyes widened, and he brought a hand up to the brooch on his neck, it was probably safe to assume there was some sort of enchantment on it.

 

“Thanks, Zee,” Wally murmured when she finally let go.

 

“Knock 'em dead, _Molly_ ,” she teased, and Dick started to lead Wally up the ship's ramp.

 

The incline of the ramp shifted Wally's center of gravity further than he expected on the heels, and he would have fallen over if Dick hadn't already been holding him. He put his other arm around the redhead's waist while he adjusted to the new sensation. Just in case, and all that.

 

“As long as these boots don't kill me first,” Wally laughed, and _totally_ jinxed himself.

 


	2. Chapter 2

 “I _told_ you I had a bad feeling about this,” Conner announced, loud and long-suffering, to the world at large. This was contradicted by the gentle way he shifted his grip on the redhead in his arms, so he could ram his unoccupied shoulder through a concrete wall. At this point, he figured making an exit himself was better, instead of trying to find one.

 

Even with the consideration, Wally flinched at the impact, sucking air in over gritted teeth when the motion jarred his already grotesquely swollen ankle. Once the pain had backed down from excruciating back to merely unbearable, he directed them down the left hallway, then glanced over Conner's shoulder at their pursuers.

 

“I'm sorry, guys,” he mumbled into the comm-link.

 

“No, it's my fault,” Megan's voice argued, first in the heads of the teammates also at the secondary location, with a split-second echo following over the comms to everyone. “If I hadn't tripped the infrared sensors and put them on alert –”

 

“What's done is done,” Kaldur's voice interrupted through fading static. He must have used his electricity recently. “Retreat to the rendezvous point as planned. We can discuss procedure once everyone is safe.”

 

“I've got the Bioship secured,” Artemis' voice responded in their ear as Wally frantically urged Conner to barricade the door they'd just passed and head for a nearby computer. If he moved quickly enough, he could salvage _something_ from this disaster. As soon as they were within reach of the keyboard, Wally channeled his inner Nightwing and let his fingers fly across the keyboard as fast as the computer could process. It felt like hours before Artemis' voice continued, moving as fast as he was; her voice was – objectively – so much slower than Wally's current 'normal' that it sounded like the talking whale and what's-her-name on Finding Nemo.

 

It would have been hilarious, if he'd had the time or attention to appreciate it.

 

The whale-song of Kaldur's reply was interrupted by a long, loud roar of sound that Wally instinctively identified as someone banging on the barricaded door, so he wrapped up his work and just yanked the computer free from the cables and into his arms. The not-so-gentle shutdown would damage some data, but hopefully Dick could still retrieve it.

 

He fumbled the computer case into his leg while trying to get a better grip of it, and the sudden pain had him crashing back down to speed with the rest of the world.

 

“–etreating east into the river,” Kaldur's voice continued, now understandable as Conner resumed running for the exit. “I'll rendezvous with the rest of you shortly; engage stealth mode and get clear.”

 

“Superboy, what's your ETA?” Nightwing spoke up for the first time since everything spiraled out of control, and something unclenched in Wally's chest at his deceptively calm voice.

 

“Coming up the north stairwell,” Conner's voice rumbled in Wally's ear as he replied, pausing only long enough to kick the fire door down before he made good on his report and jumped from one stairwell landing to the next. “We've picked up a few admirers, though.”

 

“How many?” Dick demanded urgently, and Wally blinked in surprise. He'd once joked it would take the threat of nuclear weapons for Nightwing to lose his cool; maybe he just _really_ hated doing operations control?

 

Wally couldn't think of any other reason for the concern. Conner was practically invincible, after all.

 

Snapping back into the present, Wally took another glance behind them, then activated his comm to answer. Conner was busy with other things at the moment. “Seven that I can see, but I'm pretty sure that there's a few more lagging behind that I saw earlier.”

 

“Right,” Nightwing replied, once more under control, and almost... a little _relieved_? Rude. “I'll set off some distractions. We're parked just above the roof access.”

 

Conner's acknowledgment was cut off by a few muffled explosions, then the stairwell was full of smoke, flashing lights, blaring alarms, and sprinkler water. There was a chorus of very _inventive_ cursing from the thugs chasing them that Wally was at once horrified and _fascinated_ by – okay, he _knew_ that one was physically impossible, because he and Dick may-or-may-not have tried, once – then the roof hatch was flying open hard enough to rip free of its hinges.

 

Wally had never been happier to see his boyfriend not-glaring at his wrist computer hard enough to strip paint, waiting for them in the Supercycle.

 

* * *

 

“It's not broken, luckily – or at least, if it was, it was minor enough to heal already, so I'd say things worked out oka– um, _why_ are you looking at me like that?”

 

Dick didn't want to fight with Wally – he _really_ didn't – and he knew that any of his instinctive responses to that question would cause _exactly_ that. His mind knew this, but his heart was still in a vice in the bottom of his stomach somewhere, reliving the alarm klaxons, Wally's panicked voice activating Zatanna's countermeasure, Wally trying to hold in a _scream_ of pain, and Conner rushing in to help while _he_ had to wait outside, virtually helpless to assist one of the most important people in his life.

 

Again.

 

So he knew not to, but found himself crowding Wally against the examination table, holding his jaw with one hand and swiping his thumb over the smeared remnants of lipstick. “Did he _hurt_ you?”

 

“Getting a little _sour_ there, lemon drop,” Wally sniped back and Dick internally winced; lemon drops were one of Wally's least favorite candies, and he'd learned this by gifting him a five-pound bag of them, several years ago. Never before or since has he seen candy disappear so slowly in a speedster's presence. Eyes narrowed and nostrils flared slightly in anger, Wally jerked his head free of Dick's hold. “No, he didn't 'hurt' me; he tried, and he maybe got close, but I got away from him, and _no_ ; I'm not telling you _how_ 'close'. I'm _fine_.”

 

Dick stared Wally down for several long moments, trying to read any deflection in his favorite green eyes – they always seemed so much _brighter_ when Wally got all fiercely determined about something – then eventually backed down. If they really got into it, Wally would stomp back to Central, and Dick just really needed to hold him after a scare like that. “I'm sorry.”

 

Wally relaxed his posture some, but didn't lean back into Dick's space. “For?”

 

“Doubting your honesty, about the mission and your physical well-being. And,” he winced. “for being all jealous-territorial-possessive like a caveman.”

 

“I can practically _hear_ that hyphenate,” Wally teased, but he smiled and settled back close to Dick, so he counted it as a win. “A little possessiveness isn't so bad,” He patted Dick's chest exaggeratedly, then gently pushed him back so he could hop off the table. “Just remember that I am 'your _equal_ , not your property'.”

 

Nightwing walked alongside Wally out of the infirmary, boots and hospital slippers respectively tapping quietly against the floor. “Did you just quote daytime television at me?”

 

“Nope, classic 80s rom-com; clearly, there's a gap in your training,” Wally corrected him loftily, then stole a kiss when Dick gave him a skeptical look. They turned into Wally's room out of habit, and sort of stumbled to a halt when the lights came on and a blue and black bundle was visible on the bed.

 

Wally pretended it wasn't there, instead making a beeline for a precarious stack of DVDs to find the 'classic' movie in question, but Dick walked over, running one hand over rumpled blue fabric before pulling the boots free carefully.

 

The heel of one boot was almost completely sheared off, twisted far enough to one side so that he could see the thin – and apparently cheap – metal rod that ran through the heel as support.

 

When Wally saw what he was looking at, DVD in hand, he sighed. “I tried to run.”

 

“What?” Dick looked up from his examination.

 

Wally nodded at the boot, then elaborated. “When things started going wrong, I tried to run. The heel must have slipped out from under me or something, 'cause next thing I knew I was falling over.”

 

“And nearly broke your ankle,” Dick finished for him.

 

Wally huffed, but didn't contradict him. “I don't know how girls do it; I had enough trouble just walking in the things, and I _know_ I've seen B.C. And Wonder Woman run in them, before, not to mention the days when Aunt Iris is running late, or covering one of our fights in Central City.”

 

“It's a mystery for the ages,” Dick joked.

 

“Yeah,” Wally replied, but still seemed preoccupied thinking about it. Eventually, he shook himself out of it, and held up the movie. “Anyway, come on; you've got some training, and I bet the others do, too.”

 

Nightwing dropped the boots to the floor, then tentatively slid an arm around Wally's shoulders. He didn't seem to mind, so Dick let himself relax completely from the averted fight.

 

“I can't wait to see what Kaldur and Conner think of 80s fashion,” he agreed, and they walked together to the centralized living room, though Wally's gaze slid thoughtfully to the boots as they turned the corner.


End file.
